Matthews shook his head. “The Aurora family never called. And if they had,” Matthews went on to confide, “I would have turned them down. I hear that the grandsons take after the old man. Who needs to work with fussy prima donnas?” the contractor asked. “Not me. The city’s always coming up with a whole bunch of new rules and regulations for contractors. Those are hard enough to deal with without working for the likes of the Aurora family.”
Brianna and Jackson asked a few more questions, but that seemed to be the extent of the information Matthews could provide.
Thanking him, they went in search of the second construction company on the list.
* * *
The owner of Laurence & Suarez Builders Inc. took some tracking down. They finally found him working just outside the city, rebuilding a house from the ground up. The previous house that had been there had been completely gutted down to the foundation slab.
JD Laurence was shouting orders at his men. The wiry man was apparently one of those bosses who tried to be everywhere at once.
Several attempts to get the man’s attention failed. Taking out his badge and identification, Jackson took the lead, practically getting into Laurence’s face before the contractor stopped long enough to listen to him and Brianna.
But before anything could be asked, Laurence snapped, “I’ve got permits for everything.” He spared Jackson only one quick glance. “And if I fall behind, I’m going to wind up having to pay a penalty. I’ve got no time to chitchat. Whatever you want to talk about, call my assistant. Jenny’ll answer all your questions for you.”
Moving around Jackson, Laurence shouted out an order to one of his crew. Jackson raised his voice. “It’s about the work you did on the Old Aurora Hotel,” he told the contractor.
That caught the gruff man’s attention.
As he turned around, Laurence’s eyes were blazing. He was apparently prepared for a fight.
“Everything was done according to spec. There was no pleasing those people. I even cut my fee for the work that was already done just to get out of the contract.” Frowning, he made his case. “I hear they went with Samuel Brothers. Good riddance, if you ask me.” Unable to resist getting in a final lob, the balding contractor said, “There was just something really off about those people.”
This was what Brianna was looking for. “What do you mean by ‘off’?” she asked.
Now that they had him going, the contractor temporarily turned his attention away from his current project. He didn’t need to think. Apparently, memories of that job were still very vivid in his mind.
“The guy almost had a heart attack when I suggested tearing down some walls to make room for the extension he was proposing.” JD Laurence snorted. “Said not to touch the walls, just to add on. I didn’t want my company’s name on something that slapdash and told him so. He said that as long as he was paying me, he got to call all the shots.”
“And by he,” Jackson said, “you mean—”
“Aurora,” Laurence answered impatiently, as if the two detectives should have known whom he was referring to.
“George?” Brianna asked. She assumed that it was, but she wanted to be sure.
The contractor shook his head. “No, the other one,” he told them.
“Winston?” Jackson asked. When Laurence shook his head again, Jackson supplied another one of the Aurora brothers. “Miles?”
“No,” Laurence answered, impatience brimming in his voice.
“Are you talking about Evanston?” Brianna asked the contractor.
“No.” This time, Laurence practically shouted the word at them.
Brianna could see that Jackson was annoyed by the contractor’s attitude. Any second, this might go badly, and right now they needed the man’s cooperation. She put a hand on Jackson’s arm, silently restraining him as she asked Laurence, “Then who are you talking about?”
“The kid,” Laurence insisted. “Look, I’ve got to get back to this,” he told them. He was already crossing back to the center of what would eventually turn into the first floor of the house. Currently there were sections of freshly poured concrete waiting for load-bearing beams to be inserted.
“Kid,” Brianna echoed, trying to remember names of the people populating the Auroras’ family tree. “Are you talking about Damien Aurora?”
Laurence turned around again. “Yeah, that’s it. Damien. Like the devil in that old movie,” he recalled. That settled, the contractor got back to work. His body language told them that he felt he’d wasted enough time on them. “You got any other questions, call Jenny. Like I said, she’ll answer them,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder.
“Thanks for your help,” Brianna called to the man as she and Jackson went back to his car.
Busy, the contractor appeared not to hear them.
Jackson got in behind the steering wheel, and rather than turn the key in the ignition, he sat for a moment, staring out through the windshield at the construction crew moving swiftly about, focused on strategically sinking load-bearing beams in freshly poured concrete.
“What are you thinking?” Brianna asked. She knew that the beams weren’t what had got his attention. She had a feeling that it was probably the exact same thing she was thinking.
Turning to her, Jackson commented, “Looks like we might have another piece on the chessboard we hadn’t considered.”
“Damien.” Up until now, the youngest Aurora family member hadn’t even been thought to be involved in this in any way.
“Damien,” Jackson echoed, almost to himself.
Brianna blew out a breath. This was getting more and more involved. “Let’s go see if anyone at Samuel Brothers has anything to add to this tale of horror.”
Jackson frowned, thinking. “There’s only one thing we’re missing so far.”
In her opinion, there was a lot they were missing, but she gamely asked, “What’s that?”
“Proof.”
Well, there was that, too, she thought. But they were making progress, and she was hopeful about the eventual outcome. “We’ll get it.”
“That’s right,” Jackson recalled, putting the car in Drive. “You’re the optimist.”
Brianna grinned. “I’ll win you over yet,” she told him.
“Don’t hold your breath,” he warned.
* * *
Jacob Samuels and his crew were all at a work site, working at a development that was going up just south of Aurora.
Because there were various contractors on the premises, all putting up different models within the new development, it took a bit of doing before Brianna and Jackson finally located the owner of Samuel Brothers Construction Inc., Jacob Samuels, who looked like he had never met a bottle of beer he didn’t like. Despite having an impressive belly and being in his early fifties, Samuels moved about the construction site like a man half his age.
Showing Samuels their badges and IDs, Brianna told him, “We just need to talk to you for a few minutes, Mr. Samuels.” She and Jackson had to do a lot of moving around to keep up with the man, who didn’t appear willing to slow his pace.
“If I wanted to talk, I would have been a lawyer. I’m busy,” he replied. Moving around them as if they didn’t exist, he made a beeline toward one of his men.
“It’s about the Old Aurora Hotel,” Jackson said to the back of the man’s head.
Like the two other contractors, Samuels stopped moving for a moment when he heard the hotel’s name.
And then he said, “Hotel’s gone. It’s been demolished.”
At least he stayed abreast of the news, Brianna thought. “But you did work on it back in the day,” she said.
Shrugging his shoulders, Samuels tried to sound indifferent. “If you say so. I’ve done a lot of work on a lot of places.”
Jackson had one last salvo and he delivered
it. “JD Laurence said that he gave you the referral, turned the job over to you.”
Samuels stiffened. “I did my penance,” he said, turning around to look at them. “What about it?”
“You remember anything about that project?” Jackson asked.
“Like what?” Samuels asked suspiciously.
“Like anything unusual or odd?” Brianna supplied. Holding her breath, she watched his face for any telltale signs.
Samuels shrugged again. But the look of indifference was forced now. “The pool out back was cracked in several places. The kid wanted me to fix it, but he didn’t want us to jackhammer out the old cement. He insisted that my men patch the cracks and pour fresh concrete over it. I told him the job wouldn’t be as good, but he didn’t care. Said he didn’t want to disturb the hotel guests with all that noise. Like he really cared about disturbing them,” Samuels mocked. “He wasn’t exactly the thoughtful type. But hey, he paid top dollar. I made sure he knew the risk he was running—that it would have to be done again because that repaving wasn’t going to last as long as doing it from scratch. He said that was the way he wanted it, so that’s what we did.”
Brianna was watching the contractor intently. “And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” Samuels told them.
“Thanks for your time,” Brianna told him.
“Hey, wait,” he called out to them. “Now that I think about it, there was this one thing. If you could call it that,” he said, backtracking.
Jackson and Brianna exchanged looks. “Go on,” Jackson said.
“Might just be this kid’s imagination,” Samuels qualified.
Brianna could feel herself growing impatient. “What kid? Damien?”
“No,” Samuels demurred. “I’m talking about one of my guys. Reynaldo.”
“What about him?” Jackson asked. It was obvious that he was growing short on patience as well.
“He was apprenticing with me,” Samuels explained. “I had him prepping the pool’s surface, getting it as smooth as possible.”
“Go on,” Brianna urged.
“Well, he’s working on it, and then, all of a sudden, the kid starts freaking out.”
“Freaking out how?” Brianna pressed.
“Yelling, shaking, you know, freaking out,” Samuels emphasized. “I asked him what’s wrong and he said he saw eyes looking at him. Watching him work.”
“Someone was watching him work?” Jackson repeated, trying to get this straight. “You mean, like inside the hotel?”
“No,” Samuels answered, annoyed. “Inside the pool,” he specified. “The kid swore that he saw someone looking at him from inside the pool.”
Brianna looked at Jackson, but it was impossible to read his expression. “Sounds a little far-fetched. What did you do?”
“I figured he had too much to drink at lunch, told him to stop imagining things and get back to work or I’d get someone else to do it. He finished the job,” Samuels told them proudly, as if he had accomplished something by causing this to happen.
Brianna waited, but there was nothing more. “And you never said anything about it?” she asked the contractor, stunned.
“To who?” he asked. “To the kid? The less said the better.”
“No, to Damien,” Jackson answered. “Since he’s the one who hired you for the job.”
Samuels shook his head. “Didn’t want him to know I look the other way when my guys loosen up a little at lunch. Man’s entitled to a drink now and then,” he added as if he was defending his people. “Anyway, job got finished, we got paid. No harm done. Now I’ve really gotta get back to this,” he said, jerking his thumb at the house that was under construction.
“One last thing,” Brianna called after him. “Could you point Reynaldo out for us?”
Samuels stopped and turned around but made no effort to walk back. “I could. If he were here,” the contractor qualified.
“Do you know where we can find him?” Jackson asked.
Samuels shrugged. “Probably anywhere there’s work.”
“So he doesn’t work for you anymore?” Brianna asked Samuels.
“Nope.”
“Do you have his last name? His address? A phone number where you can reach him?” she asked, getting more and more annoyed at the contractor’s indifference.
“I got a number, but he wasn’t there the last time I tried. Guy who answered the phone said Reynaldo had moved on. Why are you so interested in Reynaldo?” he demanded. “I’ve got any one of a number of guys who can work rings around him.”
Jackson took over, almost growling out the words. “Because we think he might have seen something he shouldn’t have.”
The importance of the whole thing clearly escaped the contractor. “Like what?”
Brianna could see that her partner was close to telling the contractor he was an idiot. “Like those eyes he was so spooked about probably belonged to someone buried under the pool.”
Samuels’s mouth dropped. “You’re putting me on,” the man cried, completely forgetting about the development he was overseeing.
Brianna decided to treat this all lightly before Jackson called the contractor a living brain donor.
“I’m not that kind of girl, Mr. Samuels,” she deadpanned. “And right now, you are going to have to go to your office and get us Reynaldo’s last known address and phone number, not to mention his last name and any ID you have on the man.”
This time the contractor blanched. “You’re not serious.”
Brianna turned toward her partner. “Muldare, tell the man how serious I am.”
“Like a heart attack,” Jackson underscored.
Samuels looked from Brianna to her partner. He gave up trying to argue.
Chapter 16
“‘Reynaldo Reyes’?” Detective Valri Cavanaugh Brody read the name from the photocopy of the green card Brianna had handed her. The one that Samuels had reluctantly copied for them in his office. Valri raised her eyes to look at the two people standing at her desk. “What, you couldn’t find one that said John Smith?”
Brianna was surprised that they had managed to get this much from the contractor. “It’s an employment-based green card. You’ve got a description, a photo and a Social Security number. That’s not enough?” she asked Valri.
Valri pressed her lips together and looked over at the tall, dark and somberly handsome detective standing next to Brianna.
“Your partner’s a babe in the woods, Jackson,” she told the man. She sighed, propping up the photocopy in front of her monitor. “This green card’s probably a fake, but I’ll do what I can to locate the guy. Don’t expect miracles,” she warned. “That’s Brenda’s department, not mine,” Valri told them, referring to the head of the IT division, who also just happened to be the chief of Ds’ daughter-in-law.
Brianna feigned a look of surprise. “When did you get to be so cynical?”
“Comes from on-the-job training,” Valri quipped. And then, switching subjects, she brightened. “Hey, are you coming to the chief’s gathering tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Brianna assured the other woman.
Valri’s eyes shifted toward Jackson. “How about you?” she asked. Before he could say anything, she added, “I’m sure you’re invited. The chief usually does a blitzkrieg when it comes to one of his gatherings, and if memory serves,” she said, scrutinizing his face, “I don’t remember seeing you at any of them.”
“Busy,” Jackson answered, then said vaguely, “Undercover.”
Valri’s eyes swept over him, as if to confirm what she was thinking. “Well, you don’t look undercover now, so I guess you’ll be there.” Valri blew out a breath and turned her attention back to the photocopy of Reyes’s green card. “In the meantime, I’ll see what can be done with this, but like I said, don’t get your
hopes up.”
“We appreciate anything that you can do with that.” Brianna waved her hand at the photocopy. “And contrary to what you just said, miracles are your department.” Smiling, she and Jackson withdrew. “See you tomorrow at the chief’s house,” she tossed over her shoulder as they left the computer lab and went on to the elevator.
Jackson remained quiet as they rode up to the first floor and even after they had exited the building. Unable to take it anymore, Brianna finally broke the silence with an order.
“Say something.”
Halting just beyond the double glass doors, Jackson asked, “Is everyone in your family pushy?”
She knew he’d say something like that the minute Valri had asked him about coming to the gathering.
“It’s a congenital condition,” Brianna answered. “And we prefer to refer to it as being compassionate and friendly.”
Jackson shook his head. “Pushy and delusional,” he remarked. “That’s one hell of a combination.”
Well, she hadn’t expected him to just lie down and give in quietly, she reminded herself. “You can call it whatever you want, as long as you come,” Brianna said firmly.
“And if I don’t want to? Which I don’t,” he added with emphasis. He had close to a foot on her. She certainly couldn’t bodily throw him into her car and drive off with him if he chose not to come.
Rather than argue with him about whether or not he actually wanted to come, she told him matter-of-factly, “Come anyway.” And then her eyes met his as she added, “In the interest of your career.”
Well, this had gone downhill fast, Jackson decided. She was threatening him. “That’s blackmail,” he protested.
“Such an ugly word,” Brianna chided. “Don’t think of it as blackmail,” she told him. “Think of it as trying new things. Going outside your comfort zone.”
He had no desire to venture into or outside any comfort zones. Comfort had nothing to do with his job description. “I signed on to catch bad guys, not to party and break bread with the brass.”
“No brass,” Brianna pointed out, “just people.”
Cavanaugh Vanguard Page 14
